dragging knuckles

Shoulders hanging wide

Knuckles dragging low

Bringing up lumber

From the valley below

Gonna build me a shack

And let these nights fill up my soul

Insulate with magic

From the stems from the floor

Shimmy up the moonbeams

Til my heart don't hurt no more

I got a boogie machine

The Bonanza

 Its fun, this life

im in the middle of such a forest fire

and Ive done a plenty

it seems

relative to the mass around me

everybody says things

why, your so weird

what is the purpose

your amazing

your crazy

youve done more than anyone

you havent done shit

you influenced 

you withdrawn

and.. I think

I

need to push on.. 

for what reason?

why does any Scientist who knows so much

continue to live

when he believes there is no heaven?
what the hell is he still doing here?

what am i doing here?

Im here to sing to that ache in your bones

and rollick in the chamber of joy and laughter

and I hope to echo forever

until someone pops the cork

and drinks the wine.

let

older

I realize i need to be delicate

 imply, and softly render the edges

let your hearts come through the depiction

get out of the way

The mere act of presenting a canvas

the occasion of you standing there on that floor

preceded by the carpenter that had to build it

I can just present an upward hand gesture

as I get out of the way

in time you will realize how i refracted the light

and you all gave me a name

somewhere in the undefined edge

a silhouette is born

But I wont stand in the way

So many pills of light

vessels of moments

souls slithering by 

at a frightening thundering pace.

When we plant our feet in the stream

the highway is dispersed unpredictably

and you look like such a fool. 

Let the light find its retina

let the radio of your heart tune in.

let the feels find the insides of their ribs. 

Let.

white hot romper suit

"The tube thing... meh" 

"Give me that white hot romper and some fuel.

I have a story to live"

The evening was supported by five quarter treated pine. The backstage story was the foilage that grew to the underside. The week went on typically. It wasnt until I couldn't see outward that I realized what had dozed it's way through the small margins in between the deck boards. 

There is quite a machine here. Once we etch the rust away. Once we force the gears to turn and introduce the grease. If you know what your looking at. You can salvage a classic.

The layers removed reveal a patina. One you couldn't create synthetically. 

The honesty gifted took a lifetime to earn.

My Good God. What a gorgeous soul. Growing more so as the story is born.

And she does it all in a romper suit. 

The color of white hot sun. 

into someone elses telescope

 she loves her little knick knacks

with her cords on right

an electric smile

shining through the night

wheres your light go girl

streaming cross the sky

into the tube wrapped in gifts

into someone elses telescope

pulse with the right

i cant see for the night

when she waits in that dress

i could be there for the vent

but these old walls want to fold

when the ceiling is lifted

A hand sewn starry cloak

Ill have you know that I created this cloak myself

I have sewn every star on, stood against the dark

and became sky to anyone who chose to believe in me

Along the edge of each star is a story line

 I made sure to stumble from straight

so you can be sure these were not machine made

 I left the perfect for those distant galaxies

while out here alone in the cold, I wrote a letter. Something I wish all my friends would have done before they crossed over.

(she reads aloud) 

I hope I made the moon appear large 

while you were here. Thats why I stood there in that light. That night. Directly in the way. With a smile.

And,  

I hope that you couldn't see right through me

Id like to think I refracted like the hidden wine

Not so dark that you couldn't make your way

and not so reflective that you simply saw yourself

I was here to turn the dials

 curate pigment and pixel

deliver the continuum

in the spirit of delight

and I hope you noticed, that I added in ghost notes

so the rhythm could find your bones.

Does Heaven return you to time slots?

When I get to forever

the architect sits with the director close, 

and I hope they are all there, 

Especially Brooke.

and its the same

with no new names. 
Exciting and open. 

endorsed by everything inside me that resists.

I hope she gets the smiles to me in between train cars. When im walking, she startles me between the trees. and breathes life into me again.   

Ill write those love letters in watercolor. And Ill be full power. Off and running. Again.

Director, Architect, can we start with that one carefully constructed day? 

Ah yes I remember that one.. 

 it started 

with pillows. the most natural of laughter.

the best coffee

a strangers word, and a walk.

[the whole set unravels suddenly]
But,

I have my doubts about finding the same crown molding. And Brooke doesn't like the sky blue walls anymore.  

Don't you guys have people that can tug on the fabric a bit? 

Who can put us at a time when they milled the right Crown? And Brooke favored earthy colors?